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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832060">i am running to you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/pseuds/lostin_space'>lostin_space</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Couch Cuddles, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Canon, mentions of war and things that go with it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:41:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/pseuds/lostin_space</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Greg hears about Alex being in an accident, he goes to Isobel for comfort.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Isobel Evans/Gregory Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i am running to you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i love that i woke up and singlehandedly decided i am going to make this ship a thing even it means obsessively writing only them for days</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>It was storming so loud Isobel barely heard the knocking at her door.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Noah was gone on a business trip and Max and Michael were doing their own things for the night, so she really had no idea who it could've been. She kept the lights in the foyer off, hesitantly peeking through the curtains to see who might be outside her door in the middle of a stormy night.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>To her surprise, it was a man she hadn't seen since before she got married, a man she still thought about when she was alone. He was soaking wet in blue-tinted fatigues, his chest heaving with every breath and his face red like he'd been crying. Like he was crying. She couldn't remember the last time he was even in Roswell and then now here he was on her doorstep.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Isobel opened the door.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>"Greg, what the hell are you doing here?" she asked, pulling her robe tight around her. She took a shaky breath, his jaw quivering as he tried to stay put together.</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I didn't know where else to go," he said, voice cracking. Isobel knew damn well that she'd never known control around him and she knew that, despite the wedding ring on her finger, being alone with him in her house was probably a bad idea.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But she couldn't turn him away.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Isobel welcomed him into her house and pulled her into his arms, her hand pressing to the spikey wet hair at the back of his head to hold his face against her neck. Hot tears contrasted the cold rainwater on her skin as they stood in the dark foyer. It didn't matter that he was leaving a puddle on the floor or that he was drenching her robe and nightgown. She hadn't realized how much she actually missed him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"What happened?" Isobel asked softly, moving just enough to close the door behind him before returning to just holding him. He took a shaky breath to ground himself, an involuntary whine chasing it along with sniffling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We just got word that Alex's base got bombed," he told her. Her eyes widened and she held him tighter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Oh my God, is he okay?"</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I don't <em>know</em>," he said, his voice shrill and helpless, "Th-they haven't even announced a full body count, dead or alive. We just have to <em>wait</em>."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I'm sure he's okay," Isobel said, but she felt like she was lying. She just hated seeing him so sad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"My dad didn't even <em>tell</em> me, I found out by my CO and I rushed here and, and my dad doesn't <em>care</em>. I hate this," he admitted, voice thick with tears all over again. Isobel gently scratched the back of his head, trying her damnedest to keep him calm. She didn't know how. She couldn't imagine how it felt to not know if your brother was dead or alive. She assumed she'd be worse off than he was. "I hate it. I feel so fucking useless."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"There's nothing you could do even if you were there," she whispered, "You just have to keep positive."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"He's my brother, Isobel," he said weakly, clutching her tightly. She held on just as tight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I know," she breathed, "You can stay here until you find out if he's okay. If you want to, obviously."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I don't wanna be alone," Greg admitted. She nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Let me go get you something dry to wear, okay? And then we can watch a movie or something to take your mind off it. Worrying isn't going to help, okay?" she told him, stroking the back of his head. He nodded, slowly peeling off her and wiping his face. She gave him a small smile and patted his cheek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She moved quickly up the stairs, changing into a different, dry nightgown. Then she found a pair of sweats and a t-shirt in Noah's drawers along with two towels before rushing back to Greg. He was right where she'd left him, shoulders slumped as he stared at the foyer floor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Bathroom's right there," she told him. He nodded, dragging himself that way. She used the spare towel to mop up the puddle he'd left.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was strange having him in her house and, honestly, a part of her was thankful he only came here when he was upset. It saved her from having to make a decision she wasn't mentally prepared for.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Greg reappeared, looking comfier and more like a man than she quite remembered. He was almost thirty and had biceps the size of her head that stretched at Noah's t-shirt. His sad eyes were the only things keeping her thoughts in check.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry. This, this isn’t really how I wanted to see you again,” he sniffled. Isobel shook her head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t even worry about it,” Isobel said, leading the way towards the couch, “I don’t mind.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Greg mustered up a kind little smile as he followed her, trying his best to not seem too sad. But the thing was that he <em>was </em>sad. His brother could be dead. He was allowed to be sad.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t have to act all strong, Sailor, I understand,” she assured him. His smile wavered a little and he nodded, wiping his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sat on the opposite side of the couch and put his phone on the coffee table as she grabbed the remote to find something to take his mind momentarily off the fact that his baby brother could still be in a building of ash. She was scrolling through random channels when a loud crack of thunder shook the windows and Greg jumped, instinctively making himself smaller. The only other person she’d had seen do that was Michael. The thought alone made her heart ache and she held out her hand to him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You look so sad, come here,” she urged.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re married,” he said softly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And I’m not cheating. I’m helping a friend,” she said simply. He swallowed harshly as he seemed to debate if he was allowed to do that. He <em>always </em>seemed so hesitant. She waved him closer again. “Stop listening to that voice in your head. Let yourself have comfort.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That seemed to be all he needed and he fell against her like dead-weight. She laid back and he stretched across the couch with her, his feet dangling over the edge as he laid against her chest. His strong arms wrapped around her and he just <em>breathed.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You smell like rain,” he murmured into her collarbone as she settled on reruns of Golden Girls.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Isobel hummed softly, “So do you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Greg forced a little laugh, relaxing against her as best as he could. She ran her fingers through his hair for what felt like hours, trying to console him the only way she knew how. When he jumped at the sound of the thunder, she didn’t say anything. She just held him tighter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a difficult thing, really, because she’d almost forgotten about how interested she was in him. He was always gorgeous and, though they only hooked up a few times before she decided to put her eggs in Noah’s basket, she still thought about him. Those thoughts were saved for when she was all alone, though, always straying to his strong body instead of her husband’s on late nights. In the dreams where she imagined him coming back to sweep her off her feet like a man on the cover of a romance novel, she never expected it to be with him crying on her doorstep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet she was still just as pleased to have him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After an episode, her leg feel asleep and she shifted to bracket his body between her thighs instead of having him lay on top of them. He fit all too well and yet he didn’t say anything. It could’ve been so easy to throw out an innuendo to lighten the mood, but his thoughts were firmly set on his little brother and Isobel respected that easily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eventually, his breathing evened out and it seemed he’d basically stressed himself to sleep. Isobel stayed awake for him, waiting for his phone to light up with any sort of information on Alex Manes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When it did go off, she didn’t even get the chance to wake him. The first ringwoke Greg up instantly, years of being trained by the Navy instilling an instinct in him that was damn near baffling. He sat up just a little, still keeping as much contact with Isobel as he could.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You got eyes on him?” he asked as soon as he picked up the phone, bypassing a greeting. Isobel rubbed his back as he listened and she watched. His eyes closed and he deflated back into her with relief. “So he’s gonna be okay?” A few more seconds and Greg was tense again. “But he’s gonna live, right? Like, he’s okay?” A few more seconds. “When is he expected to make it there? Okay, if he’s conscious, let him know I’ll get there as soon as possible. Thank you for letting me know, I appreciate it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone call ended and Isobel craned her head to see his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So he made it? He’s alive?” she asked. Greg nodded and she smiled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But he’s in critical condition. I-I think he’ll be okay, though, they’re triaging him before they airlift him to Landstuhl,” Greg said, his face still pressed against her chest like it was the only thing keeping him sane. Her smile fell, but she tried to keep positive for his sake.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, that’s good, right? Best case scenario all things considered?” she said, running her fingers through his hair again. He closed his eyes in response, nodding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” he breathed, “I’m just happy I know he’s alive. Now I need to get a plane ticket to Germany.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Isobel tried not to show how upset she was at the idea of him leaving again. There was no reason to be upset. Of course he was leaving. She was married, he had duties to attend to. It just made sense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When do you need to do that?” she asked, softly. He didn’t answer for a few seconds and, when he finally did, it began with the wordless gesture of wrapping her up in his arms and tilting his nose up to graze her jaw.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“In the morning. If that’s alright.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Childish butterflies brew in her stomach, but Isobel settled into the couch and bowed her head into his. Soon, he would be gone and she probably wouldn’t see him again for years. She refused to let this moment be taken from her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. That’s alright.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>also on my tumblr: spaceskam</p></blockquote></div></div>
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